


Glimpses of A Tragically Altered Reality

by Glassique



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 03:12:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glassique/pseuds/Glassique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta didn't make it out of the 74th Hunger Games, Katniss meets a fate similar to that of Finnick, Haymitch and Katniss grow close to each other. These are a collection of practice pieces in no particular order for an upcoming Haymiss story that I'm working on. Includes at least one Haymiss teaser!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Different Sense of Self Preservation

Sitting alone on the forest floor has made me really appreciate the fact that Gale works in the mines now. Of course I miss our time together. Or at least I miss how it used to be. Before the games, that is.

The games may have changed me, but my woods remain the same. And I’m so unbelievably grateful for that. It’s here that I can think, I can cry. I don’t have to be strong for Prim. I don’t have to be a Victor.

The word burns in my mouth. I’m not the victor in this situation. I died in the arena. Or at least my soul did. Which brings me to Peeta. My thoughts always bring me back to Peeta.

I cry because I’m sorry. I cry because I hate the games. I cry because I’m alive while he is dead. 

To say the games are unfair would be an understatement. But then again, the odds were never exactly in our favor. They never have been.

Sometimes I cry because I wish I died alongside Peeta. Why didn’t I just eat the nightlock after I found him? Deep down I know it’s because I’m selfish, because the desire for self-preservation courses through my veins.

Only now I’m beginning to wonder if the best way to preserve my self, my true self, is to end it all. Today. Tomorrow. Soon. From where I lay on the soft forest floor I can see nightlock berries within my grasp.

As I reach for them a smile slides across my face. These berries represent peace. Something I’ll never find in my lifetime. Peeta is lucky. He never has to know what it feels like to be branded a Victor. A murderer. 

Before I lower the berries to my mouth, I think of Prim. In this moment I’m oddly able to convince myself that she’ll be okay. She thought she lost me once and she lived. She’ll do it again. Prim, in some ways, is much stronger than I’ll ever be, than I ever was. 

I could really care less about my mother. She won’t crumble at my death, which is honestly fine with me since Prim needs her anyway. They have my Victor’s earnings so they’ll be okay. And if that isn’t enough, I know Gale will help them. 

_Gale_. I almost forgot about him. We haven’t really spoken since I came home. It’s only been a few weeks anyway. I think he’ll miss me, but he’ll be better off without having me in his life. I’ll never again be the girl in the woods he used to know. 

For a moment I consider how Haymitch will take the news until I realize he’d probably drink himself into oblivion like he does on a nightly basis anyway. Why should my intentional death be any different? I realize that I’m leaving him alone and it almost makes me regret my decision until I remind myself that I haven’t even seen him since coming back to the District. 

Fuck it. I just don’t care anymore. I don’t want to spend my last moments worrying about Haymitch of all people. Why the hell do I care about him? He’s the one that lead me into this fucking imprisonment. 

I should have ended this in the arena.

_I’m so sorry Peeta._

I take one last breath of my beautiful woods as I lean my head back to toss a handful of berries into my mouth. Before the berries reach their destination a large calloused hand slaps my lips closed, swiftly knocking the berries out of my grasp.


	2. You Make Me Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay Haymiss teaser! Be warned, it's sickeningly sweet. I'm not really good with the romance stuff so I apologize in advance.

I feel like I’ve slept for a week and it feels amazing. I can actually feel a smile betraying me as I roll over, stretching my body against the soft blue sheets. These are not my sheets. I realize I’m not in my own bed and I begin to panic. 

Last night comes crashing back to me. Now I’m struggling against the drugged fog in my brain trying to remember every detail. I think I slept with Haymitch? Yes I definitely did. This is his room, this is most definitely his bed. And I am most definitely naked. 

Before I even have time to register how I feel about this recollection of events, the smell of deliciously fried eggs wafts into the room. This motivates me to move. I quickly grab what appears to be a clean shirt from Haymitch’s dresser and quietly slip downstairs and into the kitchen. I take a second to relish the sight. Haymitch is cooking. Haymitch _knows_ how to cook. I think the latter thought is even more astonishing than the former. He’s had us all fooled.

As I feel the corners of my mouth turn upward, my growling stomach gives me away. Haymitch turns to look at me, a wide smirk (no…a grin?) crossing his rough features. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Haymitch genuinely smile. It’s so shocking and infectious that I find myself smiling back at him. We just stand there smiling at each other for a few seconds. 

I think he is the first to recover, turning his back to me and offering breakfast. As we sit across from each other to eat, I notice Haymitch is stealing glances at me, clearly trying to see how I feel about last night. Last night… oh yeah. I try to will my face to remain neutral as I sort out last night. 

Having sex with Haymitch feels amazing. Not just because he knows how to make it the most pleasurable experience in the world but because I can simply choose whether or not I’d like to have sex with him. I can’t believe he can make me laugh, even when I’m breathless and vulnerable. Last night we were both actually laughing as we stripped our clothes off each other. I even laughed as he ate me out because his stubble tickled my thighs, which in turn caused him to laugh, making me laugh even harder. 

I looked up from my now emptied breakfast plate to be met with his intense Seam gray eyes. While maintaining the same amount of intensity in my eyes as his I plastered another smile on my face. This was all the permission he needed. He practically jumped over the table as his lips crashed into mine, hands grabbing my thighs to lift me up against him, carrying me back to the bedroom. I sent a flurry of kisses across his neck and chest. I love this. 

As we break apart for air, I whisper, “Haymitch…” I watch as worry quickly flashes across his face before he masks it.

“Yes sweetheart?” He says, trying to give me a slight smile.

The fact that he doesn’t say this sarcastically doesn’t go unnoticed. In fact, I kind of like the way he said it this time. It was actually endearing. 

_You make me happy._ I smile at him, hoping that he understands what I’m trying to say since words have escaped me. The way he smiles back tells me he understands. 

Before I realize it, we’re both naked again. In my bed. When I give him a questioning look he replies with a smirk, “What? There are a total of five beds in this house. I wanted to make sure we tested them all out.”

“But we haven’t—“ I begin to remind him that we’ve only had sex in his bed before being cut off. 

“We have the entire day to get around to it,” he says, coaxing another laugh out of me while simultaneously trailing a hand up my abdomen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have already read this story on my ff profile you'll notice that this version has a few alterations. I just edited it and I don't really see the need to fix it on that account since these are just practice bits anyway. I hope you don't mind!


	3. When Ice Meets Fire Intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightlock is the end.
> 
> This is the introduction to the story these practice bits are based around. If like what you see, go to my profile and read/subscribe/whatever to When Ice Meets Fire. It's also on my ff account.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated--compliant with When Ice Meets Fire version.

As Peeta and I slowly gathered our things to leave the cave, I tried to keep my mind focused. It finally feels like we have a shot at winning the games and I’m having a hard time denying myself wishful thinking about the future. 

We could go home. We could actually make it home. I could see Prim again and Peeta would get to prove his mother wrong, that District 12 would finally have more than one Victor. I can’t allow myself to get too excited though so I allow my doubts, my worries, and my fears to cloud that feeling.

What would I do as a Victor? No one leaves the games unscathed. Haymitch is example enough—he lives inside the bottle. 

My entire life has revolved around the obtainment of food. Once I receive my Victor’s winnings, the entire purpose of my life will be taken away. I guess I could always help Gale hunt and trade. That is if he even wants to speak to me again after putting on this little show with Peeta.

It’s hard to believe that Peeta truly loves me. One look into his eyes though and I cannot lie to myself. They’re filled with adoration and happiness. If I can see it, I know that all of Panem can. I hate that I’m always last to know these things. I hate even more that Peeta had to wait until we were given a death sentence to tell me he loves me. 

I wish that he didn’t profess to Caesar Flickerman his undying love for me. Now I have to pretend to return his affections. It isn’t fair. Haymitch shouldn’t have let Peeta do it. I guess it wouldn’t have made a difference. He still would have done anything possible to make sure the Careers didn’t target me, to make sure I would survive. 

Every move he has made in this game has been motivated by love, not survival instincts. I can feel bile rising up my throat. The boy with the bread has saved me over and over and the best I can do it lie to him. I’m so disgustingly selfish. Peeta deserves to win more than I do. Everything about him is innately good.

The elation I felt moments ago has all but dissipated. The guilt is already weighing me down. If Peeta found out I had used him to win he will hate me. He would have to. I already hate myself for doing this to him. Haymitch wanted me to go along with the act, I know, but he couldn’t have foreseen the Gamemakers allowing us both out. I think he honestly believed that this little embellishment would be inconsequential because he wasn’t betting on Peeta making it out alive. 

_But we will make it out_ , I silently promise myself. And with that I attempt to silence my guilt and my fears. I hand Peeta his knife, I take my bow, and we leave the comfort and security of the cave. We’re going to win. We’re going to come home. Both of us.

At Peeta’s insistence, we attempt to find breakfast before searching for Cato or Foxface. It’s decided that we should head in the direction of the Cornucopia to hunt that way we waste less of our morning walking around. 

Even though his leg is feeling much better, Peeta walks too loudly. It wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t scaring away all of the game in the area. Trying to be polite I suggest we take our shoes off so that we’ll walk quieter. 

Peeta wears the most incredulous look on face like I’ve suggested we battle Cato in the nude. Now _that_ would be ridiculous. So I tell him that. He laughs, I laugh, and we move on.

I can’t believe that even with no shoes on this boy manages to scare away half of the forest. We probably walk a half a mile further before I finally spot a squirrel. It must be a very stupid squirrel. No matter, intelligence is not a requirement when it comes to sustenance. As I’m about to pierce it through the eyes with my arrow, Peeta comes stomping into the clearing, effectively scaring away our only chance of getting breakfast.

He’s finally gotten on my last nerve so I suggest that he forage while I hunt that way we can eat and get this over with. He just laughs. I’m sure I’m giving him a weird look because he backtracks and says, “Katniss, I know I’m being too loud. Sorry.” He chuckles again, further irritating me. “Peeta. I want to go home. The sooner we deal with today, the sooner we get there.” Now that I’ve wiped the smile off his face I can’t say I feel any better but I know we need to get this over with. “So go pick some berries. You know which ones are safe to eat, right?” He just smiles again, gives me a chaste kiss on the lips, and says, “Yes, sweetheart.” He’s good. He knew that one would piss me off. I smile like a lovesick puppy anyway, not even sure I had to fake it this time. 

Peeta heads back towards the river while I walk further into the forest after we work out a signal system with the mockingjays as I had done with Rue. As I’m beginning to detect animal movement again, I hear the resolute blast of the cannon. _Peeta_. My mind flies into panic mode. I forget the signaling system, screaming his name instead. _He can’t be dead. He can’t be dead. We’re almost home. I can’t return home alone. I can’t._

I’m screaming and running back towards the river when I come upon his jacket, unmistakably filled with nightlock berries. I feel myself gasping for air. Everyone knows not to eat these particular berries because they’re deadly. How could Peeta be so stupid? Throwing my eyes wildly around the area I notice a small pair of feet lying on the ground behind a nearby bush. That must be Foxface. I guess she didn’t know better either. If she’s dead then that means Peeta is still alive.

Again I’m running and screaming through the forest because at this point I really don’t care if Cato finds me. As I’m approaching the cave I feel my feet catch something and I find my body propelling towards the ground. As I’m trying to get up a hand grasps my ankle. Just as I’m going to kick it off I realize I’ve fallen over a boy with beautiful golden hair and bright blue eyes. _Peeta._

“Did you eat the berries Peeta? Did you eat the nightlock?” The words are frantically falling out of my mouth. He nods yes, looking like he is in extreme pain. How is he still alive? I always thought the consumption of nightlock meant instant death. These must be a Capitol variety, specifically engineered for the games. Why let tributes die peacefully?

He’s suddenly wiping the tears I didn’t know I shed from my eyes. We both know he’s dying and there’s nothing Haymitch nor I can do about it. I lie next to Peeta and put my head on his chest. He doesn’t skip a beat, moving his fingers through my hair. I can feel his entire body to shake and his breathing becomes labored. He whispers, “You…owe me. Win. For District 12. For…me…For Prim.” I cry harder. I can’t go home without him and now he’s asking me to anyway. Not that we have a choice.

I look up at his face, trying to remember the brightness of his blue eyes. Memorize his face. I want to immortalize his soul in my memory. I never want to forget. It hurts to see his face stricken with this pain. I don’t want to remember the agony I know he must be feeling at the moment. So I do the only thing I can think of to take it away.

As I lean down to kiss him I say, “I love you Peeta.” The smile that spread across his face was worth the exaggeration. It’s not technically a lie since in this moment I do know that I love him. And I’m going to miss him even though I barely know him.

“I… love you too…Katniss.” We kiss. I want him to know how much his life mattered. I want him to feel ecstasy instead of pain. I really don’t want to pull away but I want to do him one last favor so I sing the Valley Song.

As I sing he holds me. We lie there on the ground savoring the last minutes of what was, what is, and what could have been. When I finish the song I hold his face in my hands and kiss him again. I can feel him leaving his body. He cries out in pain a few times before his lips finally stop moving against mine.

Then I finally hear the cannon. The end of Peeta’s life.

I didn’t want it to be this way. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. I don’t want to leave him here. 

I just curl up against his body and sob. 

I will never see his smile again. I will never hear his laugh. I will never know what I did to make him fall in love with me. He will never know what it is like to be loved. He will never know what it’s like to feel needed. He will never know just how much he means—meant—to me. The worst part is that I didn’t really know until right now. And right now is way too late.

I hate the Capitol. If I hated them for Rue, I hate them even more for Peeta. Putting us here is cruel, but prolonging what could have been a painless death is even crueler. 

“I’m sorry, Peeta.” I whisper onto his chest. I wish he could hear me. I gather what’s left of my resolve to get out of this arena and stand up. I’m going to surround him in flowers like I did Rue. Peeta, the epitome of beauty and love and kindness, deserves at least that. 

Because I really want to piss the Capitol off, I sing The Hanging Tree as I drape beautiful wildflowers all around Peeta’s body. Haymitch will probably kill me for singing that, but then again I already feel dead so what does it matter? Of course I’m sure there will be punishment from the Capitol if I make it out alive but in this moment I don’t exactly care. My soul and all that is good died with Peeta today.

Before I step away I decide to leave Peeta’s eyes open. I want the people in the Hovercraft that pick him up to see what they did to him. To feel some sort of remorse. I kiss Peeta goodbye, noting that some of his warmth is finally starting to leave him. Then I turn to the cameras to kiss my fingers, holding them up like I did for Rue, like our district did for us, and never letting the smoldering hatred leave my eyes.

The Capitol will pay. It may not be now, it may not be in my lifetime, but someday, they will pay dearly.


End file.
